Doc pulled the right boot, setting them side by side before bending a harsh look on Brandon. "I'll get right to the point. That – that snake is trying to make Allie marry him."
"You're talkin' 'bout Arnie, I take it?" Brandon turned carefully, stretching his legs down the length of the bed.
"Hell, yes, I'm talkin' 'bout Arnie." Doc squinted over his glasses at Brandon.
"Well…that isn't gonna happen."
"Ah, you don't understand! It's the only way out of this mess – especially now!"
"Now? 'Now' that Allie's shot up his leg savin' my ass?"
Doc raked his hand across his balding head. "Unless she – was to marry someone else."
Brandon shifted, wincing as the bullet hole in his side protested. Doc stepped close, pulling the chair near the bed and began to unwrap the bandaging. "Allie'll shoot me too, for telling you this," he said in a low voice. "I don't know how else to stop it, though."
"Suppose you just spill it, Doc – and let me figure it out."
Doc sighed. "Allie bought this place out from under Arnie Smith. He'd had his eye on it, because of the water rights and the way the ranch is situated between Spring Branch and Hobart. He waltzed in to lay his money down, but Allie had bought it just the day before. Well, he could scarce believe it! Made him mad, at first, her bein' a newcomer an' all. But then, when he rode out to meet her—" Doc broke off.
Brandon thought of the expressive green velvet of her eyes, the pert nose, the kissable, full lips, and his throat went dry. "He was never the same – right?" Who would be, once they'd laid eyes on her?
Doc nodded, and wet a piece of gauze with some peroxide. "Right." He began to clean the oozing wound gently. "He was crazy over her. Wanted to marry her right then and there, but for one small problem."
Brandon chuckled. "Jay?"
Doc shook his head. "Suck it up a minute, Brandon. I've got to apply some pressure – get this bleeding stopped."
A flash of jagged pain lanced through Brandon's side as Doc pressed the gauze against the wound.
"He hated that boy from the moment he saw him," Doc continued. He glanced at Brandon, easing the pressure minimally. "Sorry, son."
Brandon waved him off. "Because Jay's Indian? Or just because he existed?"
Doc gave a short laugh. "Both, I guess." His expression turned wary. "Now, Allie, she's got this idea of making this place into a working ranch – and an orphans' home. She's hell bent to do it – bring in a bunch of boys, orphans all, and set them to runnin' cattle."
A working ranch run by orphans? So that's what Jay had meant. So like Allie to come up with a plan—
"Doc—" Brandon gasped as the older man's fingers pressed a little too heavily again.
"Sorry, son." Doc removed the gauze, flinging it into the nearby waste can with a gesture of undisguised disgust at the topic. "This whole idea of hers has the town on edge. Smith's redoubled his efforts to marry her, to gain control of this place and – of her." Doc looked over his glasses at Brandon, then reached for the salve. "Allie is not a female to be controlled. Certainly not by the likes of Arnold James Smith. She has held out against him for the past four years. Just don't know how much longer she'll be able to hold onto her independence…now that everything's happened like it has."
"When are these cattle and orphans supposed to arrive? Any idea?"
Doc recapped the salve and put it in his bag, then met Brandon's dark scrutiny. "Those boys'll be here inside this week. The cattle, by the end of the month. You're going to have to heal fast and work quick, Brandon. I don't know what Smith will do, but we both know what he's capable of. This is a matter of life or death. Literally."
* * * * *
At the soft knock on the bedroom door, Doc looked away from Brandon. "Come in!" he barked.
Jay pulled the door open a crack.
"Well, come on in, Jay. I'm just gathering everything up to leave."
"I saddled Ol' Rooster up for you, Doc." Jay came into the bedroom, the box with the checkerboard and checkers under his arm. Shyly, he set it down beside the bed.
"Thank you, son. I appreciate that, and so does Ol' Rooster." He chuckled. "You have a gentler hand with horseflesh than I do. Ol' Rooster, he always seems to step livelier when you've taken care of him."
Jay grinned, his small chest expanding with pride. "I – like horses," he said, and Doc reached to pat his shoulder.
"He'll be glad to get back here tonight, Ol' Rooster will."
"I'll take good care of him for you."
"I know you will." Doc glanced at Brandon, then gave Jay a serious stare. "I want you to promise to look after Mr. Gabriel, here, too. Lots of checkers, lots of water, and make sure he gets a little something in his stomach again later on this afternoon."
Jay nodded solemnly. "I will, Doc. I'll see to him. Don't you worry."
As Jay's eyes met his once more, Brandon felt something crack inside his heart. Jay's look was worshipful almost, and it hit Brandon in that instant that Jay actually cared about him.
Always a realist, he shook his head, refusing to minimize what he saw in the youngster's face, what he heard in his voice.
Jay loved him. Already. How this had happened, he wasn't sure. And he didn't much like it. It made him damn uncomfortable. It reminded him again that Jay and Allie were depending on him, now. God, what had he gotten himself into?
He let his breath out slowly, then shifted in the bed. Jay's expression became uncertain. Seeing it, Brandon smiled at him. "How're we gonna set up the checkerboard, Jay?"
Jay's face relaxed. "Mama has a little table I can bring in here."
Brandon nodded. "You think Big Mack's well enough to join the rest of us men folk?"
Jay glanced at Doc. The older man gave Brandon a wink, a laugh escaping him. "I'll help you move him in here, Jay. I think he'd welcome the company. Even if he's not much of a checkers player." Doc laid a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "I'll see you this evening. Rest, and don't overdo it."
"I won't. Not with Jay in charge."
Doc laughed and followed Jay out the door.
Brandon watched them go, feeling a little easier about things. What would be so bad about having someone depending on him? Having…a son. A wife.
Allie and Jay.
He sighed heavily, wincing at the long pull in his injured ribs. He saw himself in Jay every time he looked into his face. Jay needed a father. But what did he know about that? He'd never known his own father. Never been a father. Or a husband. That might be easier to learn, he mused.
He imagined Allie's gentle smile, her green gaze looking through him, into his very soul. She was the only one who could. The only one who ever had cared enough to, back when they'd been at the orphanage.
Now, she had come up with this crazy scheme…bringing orphans and cattle together, and him – right in the middle of it all. Right where he had no business being – except, dammit, he owed Allie. She'd shot Smith to protect him, and now, there'd be no peace for her at all, whether he stayed or moved on.
Setting things straight was a virtual impossibility now. Smith would hate her for what she'd done. He wasn't above killing her to get what he wanted. And what chance did a bunch of orphans stand against Arnie Smith and the town of Spring Branch?
Like it or not, Allie's intervention on his behalf was the thing that would save this ranch, the boys that were hoping to make a home here, Jay, and Allie herself. She'd made a lifelong enemy of Arnie Smith for sure, but Brandon knew now from talking to Doc that her situation had been desperate even before she'd put a bullet in Smith's kneecap.
Either way, he figured, he was all that was standing between Allison Taylor and Arnie Smith.
And he knew Smith would be figuring it the same way.
* * * * *
Allie stayed out of the bedroom as long as possible. Twice, she started to go in and join Jay and Brandon as they concentrated over the checkerboard. Jay's giggle was sweet to her ears. How long had it been since he'd laughed lik
e that? He was genuinely happy – and it was Brandon who had brought that magic into his life again. She just had not realized how badly Jay wanted – needed – a man in his life.
She might've said the same for herself, she thought ruefully, turning her attention to tidying up the front room. Her body ached for Brandon's touch. During the night, she'd slept as close to him as she dared, not wanting to make full contact with him for fear of hurting him. But somewhere in the night, he'd reached for her and pulled her close, flush with his heated skin. She'd awakened, the unnatural fevered burning of his skin against her.
His left hand held her close to him possessively, even though he slept. And that had started a well of desire in the pit of her belly that grew quickly to a burgeoning need. She had dug her nails into her palms, reminding herself that he was hurt. He had a fever. She was in bed with him to offer comfort of a completely different nature.
Besides, the doctor was asleep in Jay's room just down the hall.
She reached up to lay a hand across Brandon's forehead, pushing back the fringe of dark, sweat-damp hair. Opening his eyes, he looked at her in the moonlit darkness of the night.
His sleepy brown gaze held hers wordlessly for several seconds. She wasn't sure if he was aware or not until his mouth turned up at her worried frown. Then, his eyelids drifted shut. "Go to sleep, Allie," he murmured. "I'm all right."
I'm not, she'd wanted to reply. She forced herself to relax in his embrace, until a restless sleep claimed her.
She had crossed a line from which she could never return. Maybe – maybe she'd crossed it ten years past…
I'm in love with you, Brandon. There is no turning back now, for either of us – not after today.
She gripped the back of the settee, as Jay's laugh came from the bedroom once more. It drew her to the bedroom door, and she stood quietly, listening to the conversation on the other side. Jay had been with Brandon for over an hour while she'd cleaned up the dishes and straightened the house. Brandon needed to rest. She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open.
Jay turned to look at her, laughter in his eyes. "Mama, I've beaten Mr. Gabriel four times!"
Allie smiled at his enthusiasm. "You're a good checkers player, Jay. Now, how many games did you let Mr. Gabriel win?"
Jay glanced at Brandon. "Well, he beat me twice. But I didn't let him. Honest."
Brandon laughed. "No. I beat him fair and square." He looked up at Allie, his fondness for Jay obvious. She read in his eyes that he might have beaten Jay twice 'fair and square' by the boy's reckoning, but could've had him all six games had he wanted.
The strain was evident in the taut lines around Brandon's eyes and mouth. Allie hurried to his side as he reached to help Jay gather the checkers. She didn't miss the involuntary tightening of his jaw as he sat forward.
"No, let me," she said firmly.
Brandon nodded, slumping back against the pillows.
Jay raised solemn black eyes to Brandon's face, searching his expression quickly. "We played too long."
Brandon waved him off. "It's okay. A little rest and I'll be fine."
Jay brightened. "Doc said you needed plenty of water. I'll bring you some."
"Thanks, son."
Jay turned at the door. "I like it when you call me that. When – do you think maybe I could call you Pa?" His voice was almost a whisper. "Or were you just tellin' Jimmy that to make him be quiet?"
"Jay!" Allie couldn't help but think of Jay's heartfelt wish for a father – but she wouldn't allow him to use that to tie Brandon here.
She looked from Brandon to Jay. Jay's heart was in his eyes. She prayed to God Brandon wouldn't crush him. But it was evident something powerful had passed between the two of them earlier – something she was unaware of, and she wondered about Jay's mention of Jimmy. Jimmy Smith had no business here, of all places.
She watched as Brandon took a deep, steadying breath. His answer would bind him to a decision that would change his life – if he decided to honor it.
"Right now, Jay. 'Pa' sounds mighty good – if that's what you want to call me. I'd be proud to answer to it."
Jay smiled broadly. "All right, then!" He opened the door. "I'll go get your water…Pa."
Chapter 12
She knew she looked like a fool standing in the middle of the bedroom, the cardboard checker box clutched so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
"Are you sure you want to do that, Brandon?" She couldn't keep the tremulous note of hope from her tone. By his quick glance, he had not missed it, either.
"It's not the best thing for anyone, Allie." He let out a slow sigh. "But right now – it's all I can do."
"What – what happened earlier? With Jimmy?"
Brandon related what had happened earlier in the barn. "I…told Jay I'd be his pa – for as long as I was here."
Allie took a step toward the bed. Jay had already had a world of unimaginable hurt in his short life. No matter what, she would protect him. "Do not break his heart, Brandon."
Brandon met her gaze head-on. After a moment, he shook his head. "You know I won't do that, Allie." His voice was infinitely tender. "Not if I can help it." He put out his hand, and finally, she set the box on the small table, reaching for his fingers. "I'll try my best not to break yours, either."
Was it so obvious? Her neck stiffened at his quiet words. Her feelings for him must be written across her face like an open book. His fingers were gentle, but firm on hers, holding her hand until she looked at him once more.
"You have somethin' you want to tell me, Allison? Somethin' about a herd of cattle you're buyin', and the strays you're bringing in to run 'em?"
Allie's eyes narrowed dangerously as she sank down in the chair, letting go of Brandon's fingers as if his touch seared her. "Don't call them strays! How can you?"
He'd wounded her with his assessment. But it was time for some straight talk. "Easy enough." He shifted on the bed, trying to accommodate his sore ribs. "You know their names?"
"No, but—"
"Where are they from?"
"All over—"
"How old are they?"
"The youngest is ten, the oldest fourteen." She raised her chin a notch. "Am I on trial, here?"
Brandon raised a brow. "Only for your sanity."
Allie gasped in outrage. "I'm trying to do something good, Brandon! For everyone! Those boys need a home. Have you forgotten that – that place we lived? It wasn't a home – it was a prison. No love, or laughter. We weren't even alive – not really."
The ragged pain in her voice brought the memories flooding through him, and he took his time before he spoke again. "That's all true, Allie. But you know nothing about these kids – and fourteen…" He grimaced. "There's not much you can do to influence them once they're that age."
He didn't have to spell it out. She was a woman. A young man who'd grown up half wild wouldn't respect – or obey – any rules she might set. Allie looked down at her lap. This was her dream. Why was everyone so intent upon telling her how it couldn't be done?
"How many of these – young men – did you send for?"
Well, at least in this, he would be able to find no fault. She would have liked to have taken all eighteen that the orphans' home in New Mexico Territory had offered to send. But, it had occurred to her that in the beginning, she wouldn't know what to expect. She didn't want to bite off more than she could chew. And, the thought had crossed her mind more than once that she may already have done that – with only ten boys to work with. She'd regretfully told Mr. Wickham that her operation would only allow for ten of them to start with, and perhaps the others could come once she'd established a routine.
"Only – ten."
Brandon looked down, unwilling to share his thoughts – a habit she knew well. She crossed her arms. "Well, you might as well say it. I'm a fool for doing it at all. The boys might just take off in the night and steal the herd, or run away. Or the herd might not be healthy."
"Yes. Any
of that could happen." He gave her a level, brooding gaze, not easing her doubts in the slightest. "And what's to stop it?" he asked quietly.
"You, Pa." Jay stepped inside the bedroom door with the forgotten water, handing it to Brandon.
Allie looked at Jay, then back to Brandon.
"Me? How?"
"Been thinkin'." Jay carefully sat on the edge of the bed. "Checkers always helps me think," he explained seriously. "We learned a new word in school yesterday. 'Jurisdiction.' It means—" He hesitated, choosing his words. "It means: 'your territory'. Your law stands if you are the boss of your lands. Whatever you say – that's how it is."
Brandon smiled. "That's lawyerin', Jay. A judge has jurisdiction over certain things."
"So does a marshal, or a sheriff, though. Right?"
Brandon nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right, son. That's true. But I'm not a marshal or a sheriff."
"No, but you're my pa now. That means my name has gotta change, and—" he looked at Allie, "so will yours, Mama, because – it wouldn't be right, if you didn't get married."
"Oh, Jay, now—" Allie sputtered, but Brandon held up a staying hand.
"Let's hear the rest of this."
"Well," Jay went on, "our last name is gonna all be yours, Pa. Gabriel. Jay Gabriel, Allison Gabriel, and Brandon Gabriel. And on our ranch, we have jurisdiction." He stopped and corrected himself. "You have jurisdiction, 'cause you're the boss. So, it just seems right that when those other boys come, they'll have to go by Gabriel's Law."
Brandon's lips curved upward at Jay's heartfelt explanation. "Everyone has to go by Gabriel's Law, huh?"
Jay nodded. "If they're on our property, they do."
"Even – Jay Gabriel?"
Jay's eyes widened. "Of course, Pa. I have to be the example! Me, you, and Mama. I didn't know how to behave when I was little. Mama says I was mistreated. But later, I learned how to behave. I can be a good example." He sat silent for a minute, searching Brandon's face. "I wouldn't never make you ashamed of me, bein' a Gabriel now – the both of us."
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